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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400082">i'd spend every hour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabyforstrings/pseuds/lullabyforstrings'>lullabyforstrings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabyforstrings/pseuds/lullabyforstrings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You shouldn’t be alone tonight, Owen.”</p>
<p>Loneliness had followed him for the last six years. At least since the second divorce. It was nothing new. They were on pretty good terms, actually. </p>
<p>“Owen…” Michelle said, snapping Owen out of his trance. “You’re not okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[or three ways to say I love you]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Blake/Owen Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>911 Gift Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'd spend every hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneetchesToo/gifts">SneetchesToo</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy holidays! This is a present for Bee (sneetchestoo)! I hope you enjoy it and stay safe/healthy in the new year! </p>
<p>For some more context, this story is set in the immediate aftermath of episode 8. I wanted to expand on some of the events that the show didn't cover after the scene where Michelle and Owen are in the hospital's church...thing? I don't know what those church hospitals are called. Prayer rooms? Not entirely sure. Anyway, this is technically does not follow the canon since Michelle wouldn't get that call in the hospital church in this one shot. The bit at the end also takes place in New York while Owen brings Michelle to visit (this is a few Christmases into the future or so).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i. “Pull over.  Let me drive for awhile.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tyler!” He remembered yelling.</p>
<p>Owen watched as TK tried to turn his head. TK coughed as his blood-smeared lips moved, tracing the shape of “dad.”</p>
<p>Michelle remembered Owen’s hand cupping his son’s head as she worked on him.</p>
<p>“I’m here, kid. I’m here. Just keep breathing for me, son.”</p>
<p>TK’s chest, or what was left of it, rose again as his lungs fought to work.</p>
<p>“That’s... that’s it. Keep breathing for me.” Owen swallowed hard against the rising bile in his throat and tried to keep his voice gentle, soothing. His other hand reached out and carefully wiped away the blood bubbling at the corners of his son’s mouth.</p>
<p>“Just stay with me now, Tyler.”</p>
<p>His own father used to say that parenting was just making promises to his son that he could never keep, but he pledged his own life to anything and anyone that would listen if only they would save his boy.</p>
<p>Owen couldn’t tell if TK could hear him or comprehend anything beyond the pain and the ringing of his ears. He wanted to hold his boy, but he knew that wouldn’t help Michelle or the amount of blood TK lost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How are you holding up?” Michelle asked in the hallway of the hospital.</p>
<p>Owen wasn’t sure if Michelle had come to comfort him or had needed to see for herself that he was okay. In the end, it didn’t matter much.</p>
<p>“Doctor said he won’t wake up for a while. Said I should head home for a bit, check on the dog. Judd walked Buttercup earlier but I should get back,” Owen said and cleared his throat. Owen cleared his throat. His throat was bleeding raw from shouting his son’s name earlier back at the house.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be driving tonight,” Michelle said. “Let me drive you home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn’t remember Michelle driving him home. He was still standing when Michelle took the keys from his hands. His shoulders hunched, calloused hands shoved tightly into his jean pockets.</p>
<p>“Thanks for driving me home. I can call you an Uber if you want?” Owen choked out once they make it through the front door. He heard his keys clatter onto their marble kitchen top but doesn’t remember throwing them there. He does remember pulling out his phone to check Uber prices.</p>
<p>“It’s not a problem,” he heard Michelle say as they wandered into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Owen bit down on his lip as he looked around their kitchen. TK’s coffee cup and book were still lingering there like this was a joke. As if two near death experiences in the span of a year and a cancer diagnosis after surviving 9/11 weren’t funny enough for whoever was in charge of this.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Michelle asked.</p>
<p>He had taken his hands out of his pockets and began to fidget. There was still blood smudged right above his wrist where the medical glove ended. “You don’t have to, Michelle. You’ve done so much tonight.”</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be alone tonight, Owen.”</p>
<p>Loneliness had followed him for the last six years. At least since the second divorce. It was nothing new. They were on pretty good terms, actually. </p>
<p>“Owen…” Michelle said, snapping Owen out of his trance. “You’re not okay.”</p>
<p>“I’ll survive,” Owen replied as he looked down at his hands. </p>
<p>And he was starting to feel like he would. He always did. That was part of this sick joke that some higher power or whoever decided to play on him.</p>
<p>Michelle sighed as she crossed her arms. She couldn’t say it was okay since that was a lie not worth the risk right now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>ii. “It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Judging by the sunrise and her dry mouth, she can tell it’s before 5 AM. While the light changed to the orange glow of dawn, she wandered into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Michelle said as she cleared her throat, glancing briefly at Owen before turning to grab her phone from the charger. “Up already?”</p>
<p>“Sorry if I woke you,” Owen said as he looked up from his coffee.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t sleep anyway,” she said as she looked at the coffee in his hands. “Are you seriously drinking Starbucks?”</p>
<p>Michelle remembered that Marjan had gotten the team Starbucks iced coffee last night. If Owen was nursing leftovers of what he described as a “shithole establishment” last week then, he must have really been in bad shape.</p>
<p>“We moved down here because TK overdosed back in New York. I found him in his apartment the day Austin FD came to offer me the job. That’s the reason I was so adamant about the doctors not giving him opioids,” Owen said. </p>
<p>And the day after I got diagnosed with cancer, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. </p>
<p>Some nights, it was all Owen could see when he closed his eyes. The sound of the battering-ram against TK’s apartment door. His knees hitting the wood as the team attempted to revive his boy. He’d been able to set the memories of it aside for stretches of time, but the nightmares of both incidents always come back. He knows telling Michelle about it won’t fix or change what happened or even force TK to wake up. But maybe, maybe it would help in the waking hours. </p>
<p>“It had started in high school,” Owen said as he shoved his hands in his sweatpant pockets. His mother used to tell him all stories told in the kitchen were good, but he didn't think that applies here. Maybe memorable--if that’s what she meant all those years ago--but certainly not good. </p>
<p>He didn’t know why he was telling her this. Michelle had overheard him say it back when they loaded TK off the ambulance so in that regard, maybe he owed her an explanation, but the story wasn’t his to tell. </p>
<p>“He got an injury playing high school hockey and it went downhill from there--mostly because of me. His mom had primary custody after the divorce so she blamed herself but I should have reached out earlier. He eventually got help and said he hadn’t used in years until he overdosed in the spring.”</p>
<p>Owen did not want to admit that his ex-wife was the one who realized TK needed help all those years ago. Or that he barely can remember who TK hung out with during his teenage years.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Michelle said. Her mouth was still dry despite the iced coffee she drank. Her stomach was in knots and she forced herself to ignore it.</p>
<p>“I didn’t notice it when it first started. He was in high school--hell, he was a kid--it was my job to protect him,” Owen sighed. “And I failed.”</p>
<p>The words come out more sharply than he intended. She didn’t have kids, she wasn’t in his position, how could she understand? </p>
<p>Michelle sighed as she sat down next to Owen on the couch. She slid a hand across his back to curl her arm around his waist. </p>
<p>“Look, I’m sorry to wake you up so early,” Owen mumbled. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to apologize.”</p>
<p>Maybe it’s an overstep, but she knew that this is a thing that Owen needed probably more than her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>//</p>
<p> </p>
<p>iii. “You can have half.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen looked out the window at the snow that’s coating the cars down the street. The sound of the snow plows was just barely audible through the closed windows, but the wind was rattling the windows. Before, he was going to suggest a nighttime walk, but might call for a raincheck now. TK gave him shit when he was cold once the windchill dipped below 25. He said it was him getting old, which Owen laughed off but now he’s thinking TK might be right.</p>
<p>It wasn’t that he was unrecognizable. He wasn’t. The grey in his hair was new, clustered around the temples, not as prominent as some of his buddies back in New York. There were deep frown lines he hadn’t noticed before and must have appeared since the move down to Austin. </p>
<p>As he walked toward the couch of their Airbnb, he looked over at Buttercup, who has taken over the couch and has got more Christmas presents than both of them combined. The dog yawned as he curled up with his stuffed duck that Carlos had got him as a Christmas gift. The floor was littered with other dog toys to the point where Owen couldn't fully see the rug.</p>
<p>Michelle pressed a steaming mug into Owen’s hands and curled up beside him. </p>
<p>“I boxed up the last of the takeout,” she said. Owen had celebrated Christmas at the firehouse for the last fifteen years. After he and Gwyn divorced, he picked up every shift on Christmas he could find.</p>
<p>Michelle frowned, dressed in a pair of Owen’s sweats and a UT hoodie. “You feeling okay?” </p>
<p>She tucked her hands under Owen’s shirt and splayed her fingers over his abs.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Owen said as he put his coffee mug down on the coffee table and put his feet up.</p>
<p>“Tired?” Michelle asked as she muffled a yawn into his crewneck. “Want a piece? You can have half.”</p>
<p>“Where did TK get the peppermint bark?” Michelle asked.</p>
<p>“A place called Bourke Street Bakery,” Owen said as he took the peppermint bark piece from her. “I used to take him when he was little.”</p>
<p>Michelle yawned as she sat back on the coach. “We can go to bed early if you want. I’ll take Buttercup out.”</p>
<p>“TK and Carlos already took her out when you were walking to get takeout,” Owen replied.</p>
<p>“It’s almost midnight,” Michelle said. “Merry Christmas Eve.”</p>
<p>Owen stayed put for the next few minutes with Michelle’s hand warm on his back, the city spread out in front of them.</p>
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